


A Sirens Call

by sherlollymouse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlollymouse/pseuds/sherlollymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**NOT BETA'D** Mythea smut- A teenage Anthea manipulates the young Holmes boys in ways none of them expected. (All are over 16)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sirens Call

Anthea knew what she was doing. She couldn’t help it. Something about the cold, older man turned her on and she was driven to pursue him. After all, this life may be all they had, she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to enjoy it. Two years ago, the last time he came home, he’d sent her away; calling her a silly girl and absolutely furious that she would threaten his future with her indecent advances.  
After all, she’d only just turned seventeen this year, she was now legal and his argument would be irrelevant. So, there she sat, in the Holmes sunny in ground pool, surrounded by beautiful stone and a lovely water feature, completely naked beneath the water.  
“When did you get here?” A voice bought her attention, forcing her to turn and face a sixteen year old Sherlock.  
“I haven’t been here long.” She shrugged. The half mile walk from home to the Holmes’ was nothing to her.  
“Well, do our parents know you’re here?” She snorted at his question.  
“I’m not sure, Sherlock, but I’ll tell them in a bit.” Looking past him, she called out to the older Holmes. “Morning, Mycroft.”  
“Good morning, Miss Jones.” To her dismay, Mycroft didn’t look up at her. He’d walked through the back door and over to a wooden chair without looking up from the book he was carrying in one hand. A fresh cup of coffee floating from hand to hand before finally resting on the little coffee table at his side.  
“You can call me Anthea, Mycroft… or Ann, if you’d rather.” The cheap little giggle and pandering she gave him made her a bit embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to notice at all. Just brushed her away with a dull, groaning  
“Fine.” and continued with his work.  
“So, what are studying?” She asked, still insistence on pursuing him.  
“Does it matter?” His drull tone was becoming irritating, so she decided it was time to go the extra mile and began pulling herself out of the pool. Terrified, the younger Holmes whirled around and raced off toward the house, only to stop to stress vomit in the bushes. “You’ll have to excuse him.” Mycroft hadn’t looked up from his work yet. “He’s never seen a naked woman before… you may have scared him.” Frustrated, Anthea blew her bangs out of her face and approached Mycroft. Casually, she placed her hands over his book and met his eyes.  
“Have you?” For a moment, he seemed offended, pulled back a bit with a sour face.  
“Why would that be your business?”  
“You don’t have to tell me.” She continued. “I was just curious…”  
“Well don’t be.” Before he could turn back to his work, she stopped him.  
“Are you?”  
“Am I what?”  
“Curious… about me….” With a deep exhale, he turned away from her. “I’m not a virgin, you know…. you wouldn’t be the first.”  
“Anthea….”  
“What? I am old enough to make my own sexual decisions now, you know.”  
“...It wouldn’t be prudent.”  
“This isn’t anything sorted, Mycroft.” She scoffed. “Listen, if you really don’t want to, I’ll stop, but I think you do and that’s why I’m so upset.” Anthea didn’t expect him to show any emotion, he rarely did, but she could feel every emotion he buried in his kiss as he tossed his work away and grabbed her. Antheas knees buckle as she felt the warmth and firmness of his hand around her throat; holding her still.  
“Is this what you want?” He pulled away. “Is this what you are begging for?”  
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” She challenged, wide smile spreading across her face and he took her arm. In the shade of a tree on the far side of the house, away from the prying eyes of his parents on the opposite end of the abode, Mycroft finally let go of her arm and frantically began undoing his pants.  
“I want your lips around my prick,” he explained, presenting it. “I want to taste me on your lips when I pin you up against that tree and take you.” Enthusiastically, she fell to her knees and took his girth into her mouth and slowly began to work on it. Just the contact, she perceived, gave Mycroft some release as she felt him relax and let out a groan. She felt a bit like a blowtorch; bending metal with the fiery heat of her mouth. The twitching of his body of his muffled cries only made her want to tease him more… after all, he’d made her wait for this; she was going to enjoy the sweet of his arousal and blessed torment. After a minutes, though, he breathlessly pulled her away by her hair and lead Antheas lips to his own. Swept away from the aggressive kiss, she gasped when she felt the hard bark of the tree against her bare back and his fingers wrap around her knees.  
Suddenly, a thrill swept through her. Mycroft had pulled her legs around his waist and dug his nails into her pale ass.  
“One last time, is this what you want?” Confidently, though a bit afraid now, she gave him a nod and clear, but whispered yes. “SSShhhh!” He hushed her, as he plowed his growth into her and she buckled from the force. “You tell me is this bark scratches you up.” He strained over her cries of pleasure.  
Lifting her head up to rest her chin on his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of someone standing in the understairs window and immediately recognized the dark curls and sparkly eyed stare of Sherlock Holmes. She met his eyes and winked at him before licking his brother neck and face. Relishing her ownership of the Holmes boys, she watched the younger slowly raise the window a bit and knew that was her cue to let out her moans of ecstasy a little louder, and Anthea obliged as she watched Sherlock slip his hands down into his own pants.  
Young Anthea had never felt so desperately alive.  
“Oh, god.” Mycroft sputtered.  
“Don’t cum yet, baby,” She purposely didn’t use his name; for Sherlocks sake. “Fuck me harder. Please.” Anthea moaned into the early morning sky and Mycroft didn’t argue. Clutching one lover with her hands and the other with her eyes, she rolled into her orgasm shaking from toe to the lip. “Oh, god!”  
“Don’t move.” His whisper was stern. “You haven’t made me cum yet.” It wasn’t a statement, it was a demand that sent a chill up Anthea’s spine and threatened to bring her to climax again. His grip was more insistent now and she could tell he was getting close. “You don’t move until I’m done with you.” He babbled again as he slid his finger to graze her clit; a place she’d never been touched before, the other boy had been her own age and clueless. And as she gasped again, crying out to a deity she wasn’t sure if she even believed in, he whispered in her ear “You’re tighter when you’re cumming.” as he strummed her like an instrument.  
From her position on the ground, she could also see that Sherlock was close and couldn’t help but think how hot it was they were all about to climax simultaneously.  
“Oh, Anthea.” Mycroft panted. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I almost came home last year, just to fuck you.” She could only moan in response as she dug her nails into his shirt, pulling it away from her body. “I’m cumming” Her lover grunted, just as she was rising to her own peek. Meeting Sherlocks eyes once again and seeing his jaw drop, she could almost hear him, too, over her own moan and Mycroft’s cry.  
As the two caught their breath, Mycroft pulled away and started walking back to his own work, putting his penis back in his pants as he went. Anthea though, stayed back, wanting to completely regulate her breathing before rinsing herself off in the pool.  
“Did you finish?” She called up to the window as quietly as she could and the boy only nodded in return. Satisfied, she made her way back to where the trouble began, she wasn’t going home to her parents smelling of Mycrofts cologne and desperation.


End file.
